Let me ask you a simple question: what are we doing here now? And what do we do every time we attend Mass? The answer is as simple as the question: we sit down in pews, sing a few hymns (if we know them), listen to some biblical readings (followed usually by a mediocre and uninspiring sermon), say our bits of formal liturgical dialogues, do some simple physical exercise, take communion and then head back home. This is how many outsiders may perceive our gatherings. Some more cynical might say that seats are uncomfortable, people are a motley crew, music old and poorly performed, and the show almost identical every time.
In the world of professional entertainment, full of glitter and glamour, re-inventing well-tried shows or creating completely new, our old-fashioned, two thousand years old celebration simply doesn’t fit. It doesn’t provide excitement, it doesn’t appeal to our emotions; it’s like an old and well-worn spectacle that nobody wants to watch any more. In competition with so many other activities widely available Sunday Mass may be hard to win.
But let me repeat that question from the beginning of this sermon: what are we doing here? That passage from the letter to the Corinthians we heard tonight gives us some clues, when St Paul passes on to us, quoting the words of Jesus: ‘This is my body, which is for you. Do this as a memorial of me. This is the cup of the new covenant in my blood. Whenever you drink it, do this as a memorial of me.’ What we celebrate here, and every time the Mass is said, is the sacrifice of Jesus, made fully on the Good Friday when he was crucified. It’s not only a commemoration, remembrance of the finished and distant past event. Every time the Mass is celebrated that past event is made present, here and now, for you, those beside you, those before and behind you, and the whole community.
So, what are we doing here? First of all, we are not here looking for shallow entertainment, short-lived excitement or quickly vanishing glitter. This is not the place nor time for those. Let me recall St Paul’s letter once again: ‘Every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are proclaiming his death.’ We are here to celebrate the death of Jesus, but not as his utter defeat, but as his utter triumph. In his death on the cross a fountain of life eternal has been opened. Through the sacramental signs of consecrated bread and wine we draw that life from the Risen Lord, who never dies and lives for ever.